


You Deserve Better

by slendersmut



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Blowjobs, CPTSD, Cheating, Discriminatory Behaviour, F/F, Fingering, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, Just General Sexiness, Masturbation, Mental Illness, Misogyny, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape Apologism, Sex Toys, Sexual Entitlement, Suicidal Ideation, Trauma, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18306530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slendersmut/pseuds/slendersmut
Summary: A frank discussion between roommates Amy and Jessica leads to an evening of physical and mental intimacy, in which Amy confronts some of the demons of her past.





	You Deserve Better

**Author's Note:**

> I strongly advise caution when choosing to read this fic, as it is a vent drawing on personal experiences, and very different to my previous pieces. 
> 
> I’d also like to make a disclaimer: the depictions of Alex Kralie in this fic are not supposed to be taken as a legitimate interpretation of the character. Alex’s use is merely incidental. I love his character and mean no ill will. This is nothing more than the filling of a prompt for Amy/Jessica from some time back, that turned into something I really needed to get out of my system.
> 
> I hope this helps some of you who have been through things similar to what I have.

Nights shared with Jessica were one of the things Amy looked forward to the most. By tradition, they languished through their Saturday nights together, lucky enough to share an evening away from their respective workplaces. In the past they’d been voracious clubbers, but as time wore on the town didn’t offer much in the way of entertainment, and they didn’t enjoy being the subject of unwanted attention from the locals. It only took a couple of incidents with some particularly sloshed gentlemen before them mutually decided the local dating scene needed some time to mature.   
  
Amy didn’t blame Jessica for wanting to cheer her up, of course. Jessica liked to be practical about things, and as such she gave Amy an ‘incubation period’ to get her feelings together. Past that point, though, Amy knew Jessica felt talking about the situation was open season. She wasn’t about to contradict her, either - Amy needed to vent sometimes too.   
  
As longtime roommates and best friends, the two now choose to spend their Saturdays curled up on the sofa, alternating between playing old video games or watching the most obscure things they can find on Netflix. Tonight is no exception, and they lay across their individual sofas - claimed from the moment they first moved in - while laughing at and occasionally heckling the pretension they inevitably find. It feels easy and companionable. A touch of stability in a life all too frequently dragging itself across the hot coals of anguish.  
  
Of course, soon the clock strikes that magic hour when easy talk dips into the realm of the existential, and the conversation swerves round without fail to Amy’s least favourite topic:  
  
“Guessing he wouldn’t have enjoyed this one too much,” says Jessica, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.  
  
The reference is implicit, and familiar enough that Amy chuckles. They’re watching an indie documentary about the history of coloured vinyl, and just as they both predicted, the content is exquisitely dull. “No, I guess not. The cinematography isn’t boring enough.”  
  
Assuming a light tone around Jessica always feels natural and uncomplicated. There’s no question as to who ‘he’ is; Alex made his mark on Amy’s life as dramatically as he did anything else. In the early days surrounding their break-up, everyone who spoke tactfully to Amy of the situation would eschew Alex’s name and plump for the pronoun, as if anonymity of a cheater makes the heart grow fonder. All the same, looking at the stacks of neatly pressed vinyls passing across the scene like a marching procession of polymer, Amy swallows against a familiar hole opening up in the back of her throat. Her nails sink into the cushion in her lap.  
  
“He’s an idiot, you know.”  
  
Jessica’s voice startles Amy a touch. She turns to look, and Jessica is staring intently at her, with eyes like molten ink.   
  
“Huh?”  
  
“He got cocky, Ames.” Jessica picks up another piece of popcorn, studies it for a second, then crushes it in her palm. “Really thought he was a hot shot, didn’t he? Full of himself to the highest degree. I never liked the guy, personally - too snobby.” She pours the crushed crumbs into her mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “I’m not saying I thought things would go south, but it never felt like things were good enough for him. Only follows he’d feel the same way about you. ”  
  
Often Jessica let her mouth run when the rage took her, and on nights like tonight, that lividity was her lifeblood. Though her words are blunt as ever, and painful to hear, Amy relaxes her grip on the cushion. Jessica is right. This isn’t the first time these sentiments were spoken aloud - certainly even Jessica took care to be a little more tactful in the immediate aftermath of their break-up - and that probably helps Amy stomach the hard truths. In fact, as these Saturday night therapy sessions become a weekly occurrence, Amy suspects Jessica’s venom towards her ex might be more than a little artificially constructed. Jessica’s verbal poison should never be understated, but no one could stay mad forever.   
  
Even Amy couldn’t.   
  
“You got it in one,” Amy sighs, relenting to the accustomed pleasant sensation of mutual bitching. “It’s not that it was all bad, he just…never felt present. Towards the end, he got angry. Snapping more. He started being way more distant, spending time away from me, locking himself up in his house and obsessing over tapes…”   
  
Jessica mutes the television, all thoughts of absorbing information on coloured vinyls forgotten. “I don’t think he was present towards the end, doll.” she says. It’s strangely kind for her, on the subject of Alex. Maybe it’s because she’s heard all of these facts before.   
  
Amy can’t help voicing the same thing she says every time they talk about the Alex situation. “It makes me want to forgive him.”   
  
There it is, that familiar snapping harshness behind Jessica’s eyes. Her lips purse in distaste, like Amy suggested she eat dirt.   
  
“No. Whatever issues he had going on at the time, he’s still responsible for his actions. Just because he’s sick doesn’t mean you should have waited on him forever, wondering when he’s going to get better. He wasn’t good to you and he’s still a bastard cheat.”   
  
Amy flinches. That word hangs in the air like a noose from a tree branch: ‘cheat’. A perfect sentence for her perfectly imperfect ex-lover. An excuse to banish him totally from her mind and slap a prepacked label to his forehead, all shipped and ready to shun. Isn’t that what everyone who’s been slighted wants: an absolute reason, an ease for revenge? Yet, even with perfect knowledge of what happened, Amy does not feel satiated. If anything, it leaves her just as internally vacant, and even more desperate for answers.   
  
Jessica must sense Amy’s dithering, because she launches into another speech. “How long are you going to hang onto the idea that you could have fixed him? Amy, it’s not healthy. You were his partner, and that’s how it’s supposed to be in a relationship, you know? Mutual. Nothing  _Alex Kralie_ -” she pronounces the syllables with a pontificating air - “ever did was mutual, except fucking that Jay.”  
  
A prickle of sweat breaks on Amy’s forehead. Just hearing the name of Alex’s old filming buddy makes her nauseated. “I’m not sure he wanted it much either, Jess,” she mumbles. She’s remembering Jay showing up to her apartment a few weeks after the break-up, pale and miserable.   
  
He gave her a bag of tapes. She hasn’t looked through them yet.  
  
She isn’t sure she ever will.  
  
Jessica’s expression softens. “Yeah, you’re right,” she concedes. “I’m sorry.”   
  
The two stay silent for a moment. Amy watches the flickering of the television without really seeing what’s on the screen. Becoming unfocused, unfeeling; that’s what she needs. To drown herself in stupidity, and inanity, even if it doesn’t make her feel much.   
  
Nowadays, it’s becoming harder and harder to feel things. Everyone keeps telling her that her wounds will heal with time, but all the evidence she’s gathered so far points to inevitable sepsis.   
  
As a result, Amy doesn’t register Jessica until her friend sidles up next to her and slips an arm around her shoulder. Cuddling between them isn’t unusual; Amy’s always happy to slip back into Jessica’s chest. She always smells divine, with the gentle lulling power of rose-scented soap tingeing her skin.   
  
As Amy is tipped back against Jessica her friend’s longer hair falls forward onto her face, and she giggles at the tickling sensation. While sinking back into connotations of warmth and flowers, Amy thinks she could stay here forever. Maybe she could learn to forget everything all over again.  
  
However, Jessica has other plans.   
  
“Do you miss the sex?”   
  
Amy jolts, and stiffens against Jessica. Oh, this is different. Jessica is going off script here - and they do have a script now, weird as it is. They both know what to tell each other in order to have a good night, to make them both feel a little bit more cleansed. But this has always been a step too far, a leap into a quarantine zone. Even bold, frank Jessica must know this is risky. But now, whatever imaginary ticker tape separated this crime scene from prying eyes is being pulled apart. No, not pulled apart - discreetly moved aside, and there Jessica stands, waiting at the barrier.   
  
Waiting for permission.  
  
_Directness doesn’t mean invasion_ , Amy thinks.   
  
“I…don’t know,” says Amy, twirling a lock of Jessica’s hair around her finger. “Thinking about him makes me feel kinda sick, so I don’t think I miss it. But it’s like…something’s lacking.” She lets the lock go with a sigh. “I really don’t know.”   
  
“We-e-ll….” Jessica looms over Amy, creating a little fortress with her hair and trapping Amy within. “How was it?”   
  
“What?” says Amy, spitting a little around strands now tangling against her mouth.  
  
Jessica brings her thumb and forefinger together beneath her hair, then draws them apart a couple of inches while waggling her eyebrows.   
  
Amy bursts into a fit of giggles, and has to rise up out of the hair cave to prevent choking.  
  
“No, it, um- it wasn’t like that,” Amy gasps.  _Good God, Jessica!_  “We never really…got round to that aspect of our relationship.”   
  
Jessica’s eyes widen. “You never fucked?”   
  
What a question. How have they known each other so long and this topic of conversation has never come up? It feels scandalous, the act of not having talked about her sex life.   
  
But then, Amy thinks she did talk about it - in flowery terms, generalisations. Praise, always. Praise for Alex. It became automatic, an expectation as his girlfriend, to big up how good he is to her and how they have a phenomenal sex life, without actually saying as much in words.  
  
_Wow, that’s…pretty fucked up.  
_  
Instead of translating that clusterfuck into speech, Amy twists round to face Jessica and opts for the grisly facts.   
  
“He never… got it in. We used to sort of grind together? I didn’t feel a need to fix what was broken. He was satisfied, so I was too.”  
  
Jessica takes in a sharp breath through her teeth. “Oh,” she says, sounding genuinely disgusted. “That dick.”   
  
“Hey, it wasn’t all so bad,” Amy says weakly. “He did…do things with me from time to time, it’s just that they mostly weren’t…things that I was comfortable doing.” She doesn’t look at Jessica, choosing instead to focus on a watermark on the wall. “I never felt comfortable asking much. He was so closed off all the time. I figured keeping my mouth shut and doing what he wanted would keep him sweet on me.”   
  
She shuts her eyes tight against a painful wave of nostalgia and void.   
  
“Or keeping my mouth open, I guess.”   
  
Amy feels hot, with the gentle curling of embarrassment making its vice-like grip known around her throat. There’s a familiar curdle of shame forming in her chest, and it only swells as she tries and fails to make eye contact with Jessica, whose eyes are wider than ever.  
  
Suddenly, Jessica rushes forward and envelops Amy in a bone-crushing hug. Amy inhales sharply in surprise, as Jessica’s lovely rose scent permeates to her very core. How had she never noticed how good this felt? They were very cuddly as people- even their most distant friends knew that.   
  
But this felt different. A twist in the dynamic. The tightness of Jessica’s arms and the sensation of Amy’s own pulse thrumming in her head leave an impression of vague discomfort…and curiosity.  
  
“Amy, that wasn’t right,” says Jessica. “You’re not just there to service the guy. It was a relationship. Ergo, it should have been mutual.”   
  
Jessica’s arms suddenly feel a little bit too tight for Amy’s liking, and she wiggles from her grip. “I still don’t think it was that black and whi-”  
  
“I don’t know how you ever managed with him,” Jessica interrupts. “Too many guys become complacent and entitled with getting their dicks sucked. They act like getting to cum is their God-given mission. Then once they’ve gone three, two, one, blast off, it’s like you’re back watching in mission control.” She sneers. “Actually, it’s exactly like that. Expected to get all the pleasure from second-hand experience.”   
  
Amy’s mouth twitches. With any other person, joking around about this stuff would have made her ball up and cry in a dark room. But there’s no malice in Jessica’s words, and nothing to suggest she isn’t taking this seriously. Amy knows that, if Jessica were in her position, these would be the words she’d want Amy to say to her.   
  
When Amy turns back, Jessica’s looking at her in a strange way. Too perceptive - those eyes are interrogatory in their own right.   
  
“I’m sorry for getting riled up,” Jessica says, and Amy knows she means it. “But.. I want to ask things. This feels like a breakthrough. I’m not trying to bring up uncomfortable memories, but if you’re cool talking about things, I’m cool too.”  
  
Jessica smiles, all tender. Amy can’t help but smile back - her transparency is captivating.  
  
“No, you can shoot.”  
  
“Okay.” Jessica flashes her teeth at Amy. “So, you feel horny a lot?”  
  
_Zero to a hundred in record time, Jessica. Wouldn’t have it any other way._  
  
“I do get pent up from time to time,” Amy admits.   
  
Amy’s face feels uncomfortably warm, especially with Jessica’s big doe eyes zeroed in on her face. She isn’t in the habit of lying, but under Jessica, there’s no way she’d get away with it if she did. The girl’s got x-ray vision for bullshit.   
  
“And you don’t ever…?” Jessica makes a crude gesture with her fingers, like strumming a tiny violin. Amy can’t help laughing. Jessica never does things by halves.   
  
“I’ve tried, but it doesn’t do much for me.”   
  
Amy pauses, but Jessica’s gaze is still searching, and Amy knows she wants her to continue. “I went to a doctor back when I was with Alex. Thought there was something wrong with me.”   
  
Jessica raises her eyebrows. Amy grimaces, and adds, “Down there.”  
  
“Ah.” Jessica nods knowingly. “So he was shit in bed. Suspicions confirmed.”  
  
Amy bites her lip. Even thinking of Alex as being terrible in bed still feels like a betrayal, because they were together for so long. She still can’t help thinking that she’s the one with the problem, even after all the gentle, choice words her psychotherapist chose to impart regarding her relationship.   
  
After all, Alex was the one who chose to fuck Jay.   
  
She clearly wasn’t satisfying him enough.  
  
Those toxic thoughts bundle and metastasize quickly, spilling up into Amy’s head and threatening to leak out through her eyes. So she fakes a laugh, and even though it sounds high and false to her own ears, mercy is granted when Jessica looks away.  
  
“I suppose so. It never really occurred to me that he was…bad.” Amy fidgets with the hem of her shirt, rolling it between her fingers. “The doctor asked me a lot of questions about our relationship, and if things were stable, and I told him they were fine, because I was the problem.”  
  
“How were you ever the problem?”   
  
Jessica’s sharp tone makes Amy start. The softcore nausea with which Amy has become so familiar is making its place known in her gullet. She knows exactly how she was the problem, because Alex made it his duty to let her know what she was doing wrong.  
  
Every time she tried to tell him no.  
  
“He said he…couldn’t tell when I didn’t want it,” she whispered.   
  
“He couldn’t tell?”   
  
“I tried to be clear with him. Firm. But he’d wait.”  
  
“Wait until what?”  
  
“Until…” Amy sighed. “Until I was so desperate for any kind of affection I’d do what he wanted anyway.”   
  
Despite their proximity, Amy feels distinctly chilly. Translating the numbness in her tongue and the expanding of her throat into words wouldn’t be enough to convey how detached she felt, talking about him and they way they were.  
  
It feels unreal, and then all too real at the same time.   
  
It’s only when she feels Jessica’s nails digging into her palms that Amy comes back to reality. Jessica sits beside her, cross-legged, her fingers intertwining with Amy’s.  
  
“Listen. I don’t care what sort of problems Alex had or does have,” Jessica says. “You were clear with him that you didn’t want shit to happen, and he overstepped your boundaries. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Least of all me.”   
  
The authority in Jessica’s voice is so wonderfully stabilising that Amy feels she might choke. “Thank you,” Amy whispers. “Thank you so much.”   
  
Jessica grins at Amy.   
  
“No problem, honey.”  
  
All that tension released, Amy leans into Jessica, allowing her arms to relax and giving her palms to Jessica’s nails. The pain is helping ground her. Sometimes, when the void threatens to swallow you whole, a good slap will destroy even the most enchanting misery.   
  
But when Jessica’s voice breaks the spell, it feels less like a slap, and more like a golden opportunity.   
  
“You know…maybe I should show you the ropes.”  
  
Amy stares at Jessica. “What?”    
  
Jessica smiles knowingly, all coy and secretive. “You’re very cute, and I can’t pretend I haven’t thought about it. Couple of young, single women that we are, I’m sure anyone would have thought about it.”   
  
“I- wow, thank you.”   
  
Amy knows she’s gone tomato-red, and on her fair skin, there’s nothing she can do about it. Thankfully, Jessica saves her the embarrassment by responding in a hurry, “It doesn’t need to be weird. I’ve been meaning to ask for a while, to be honest. A chill hookup. I have a lot of toys we can play with, while we’re, you know…” She winks. “Just gals being pals.”  
  
_Maybe the fabric of reality is actually crashing around me,_  Amy thinks.  _Maybe this is another one of those dissociative episodes, and I’m going to wake up hours from now in bed with no idea why this dream was so bizarre and specific._    
  
But Jessica’s sitting right there, inches away, and she’s twiddling a lock of her hair in that way she does when she’s nervous and excited. She’s looking to Amy for an answer. An answer that Amy isn’t giving…  
  
“Tell you what.”  
  
Jessica hops off the sofa and holds out her hand to Amy. “How about I show you my collection, and then you can tell me how you’re feeling?”  
  
Amy stammers for a moment, her mouth shuttering like a camera. A thousand potential scenarios for how this could end up going wrong immediately assault her consciousness. Not being able to perform, her body not being good enough, saying something weird and making her leave…and then all of the horrible little interactions that would ensue:  
  
Grabbing coffee in the morning knowing that your best friend can’t stand the sight of you.   
  
A too-wide space on the couch, fostered by mutual discomfort.  
  
Walking past the bedroom where you almost made love.   
  
But then, Amy sees Jessica - really sees her, not just acknowledging her existence as part of the fuzzy static peppering the background of her life ever since the breakup. A wonderful, delightful, beautiful human being.   
  
Offering sustenance to a starving soul.   
  
“Yeah,” says Amy, and she means it. “I’d like that.”  
  
Now, Amy doesn’t consider herself naive in any respect. But she certainly feels a little outclassed when Jessica pulls her into her room, shoves aside a bunch of clothes at the bottom of her wardrobe and hefts a heavy wooden box onto her bed. It’s about  one twice the length of Amy’s torso, and immediately, she knows that this is heavy duty stuff. Not too surprising - again, Jessica is very much a go-big-or-go-home type of woman.   
  
Even so, when Jessica flips the lid, Amy whistles in disbelief.  
  
The chest is absolutely stuffed with toys of every shape, size, and colour imaginable. While not disorganised per se (for there appeared to be some sort of system going on according to toy type, not that Amy could provide names for each), the colourful chaos within came in the form of sheer number. Such a gorgeous cornucopia of genital-pleasers Amy had never seen, and wasn’t sure she’d ever see again outside of the internet.  
  
“I like to be prepared,” says Jessica, unnecessarily.   
  
She then reaches into the box, rummages around, and comes up with something palm-sized, glisteningly red, and very phallic.   
  
Amy’s still not up to vocalisation. The toy looks…intimidating, despite its small size. It wasn’t that Amy had never seen a sex toy before; it’s just that compared to the limp slappings of Alex’s hand or dick between her legs, this looked like a pneumatic drill.   
  
Alex never went a bundle on toys. They’d never talked about it, but Amy knew that Alex would feel chagrined if she came home with a vibrator. She never understood how the double standard didn’t apply to Alex, because she would have been more than okay with him using a toy on himself, or even her on him if he wanted.   
  
But of course, that just came down to her own silly needs, didn’t it? Female hysteria. That’s how it would be put, even if he never made it something gendered.   
  
Amy frowns. Jay was a type of toy, too.   
  
“This is a bullet vibrator,” Jessica says, excitement colouring her speech. “It has six settings - three different vibration speeds, three extra vibration patterns. Nothing too fancy;  all you gotta do is press the button once to change which setting it’s on. To turn it off, you hold it down. Simple.”  
  
When Jessica passes her the toy, Amy handles it like it has teeth. She’d never gotten up the nerve to go into the backs of lingerie stores where she knew they kept these on the shelves. The idea of a smiling service lady asking her if she needed any help deciding gave her the absolute creeps. Jessica looks like a veritable Whore of Babylon comparison to Amy’s chasteness.  
  
It’s pretty hot.  
  
“You sure that’s…safe?” Amy squeaks.  
  
Jessica snorts. “I don’t think it’s going to kill you to feel a little pleasure,” she says.  
  
Amy must have been pulling a face, because Jessica adds, “And I clean them all after use.”  
  
A smile tugs at Amy’s lips. Cautiously, she turns the little bullet on, and jumps a little at the sensation. It’s fizzy - and powerful!   
  
“It’s like a drill!” Amy laughs, feeling giddy. She places the bullet on her wrist and marvels at the sensation.  _How can something so small have so much power?_ She gazes at the toy like it’s a long-lost mystical artefact. The knowledge that Jessica has probably had this little wonder clenched between her thighs, let its tip shiver over her clit and its shaft fill her upon the inside, is intoxicating.   
  
“Would you like me to use it on you?”  
  
The quirk of arousal is unmistakable as it races up Amy’s spine. Jessica’s overt casualness, like she’s offering a hug, is so juxtaposed between content and context that it seems borderline taboo. All of a sudden Amy’s brain is flooding with thoughts - Jessica, looming over her with those sloping, freckled shoulders, with delicate, slender fingers grazing the powerful toy between Amy’s own soaked thighs.  
  
In a moment she’ll shake her head at in years to come, Amy realises in that moment how attracted she is Jessica. She should have known this by now, considering how long they’ve been living together. In any other relationship, it would have come up by now.   
  
“Wow, um - really? You don’t need to do something like that…”  
  
“It’s your birthday next month. Consider it a really early birthday gift,” says Jessica, with a cheeky grin. “Awakened sexuality, courtesy of your very gay roommate, would look silly on a tag.”  
  
“Well,” says Amy, not at all minding the pleasurable warm rush blossoming across her neck and cheeks, “I can’t refuse an offer like that. Just don’t hold this against me!”  
  
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t be holding that against you.”   
  
That would be Amy’s fatal mistake. Without warning Jessica pounces on Amy like a cat, and they both tumble into the sheets with a shriek. Jessica is angular and athletic, and she positions herself high and tight above Amy, like a kite pinioned against the sky.   
  
“This isn’t too much, is it?” Jessica’s unendingly expressive eyes brim with worry.   
  
“No-! No,” says Amy, breathless. “I’m just… not used to this level of passion.”   
  
“Okay, because I don’t want to…”  
  
The look on Jessica’s face makes Amy’s whole throat constrict. It’s like Jessica’s looking at a fragile vase she’s about to carry across cement. A barrage of thoughts hammer on the inside of Amy’s head, threatening to burst the dam of her mental defenses, and they’re all whispering:  
  
_She thinks you’re a burden_  
  
or   
_  
This won’t last.  
_  
But Amy takes a deep breath.  
  
And she swallows the pain.  
  
“Jess, it’s okay. I’m not going to be broken by this. I’m all right.”   
  
The dark pools of Jessica’s eyes soften. The corners of her mouth perk up too, but this is nothing like her usual tantalising grin. If Jessica’s pretty as a picture, then her frame is fashioned from concern. Amy can’t quite believe the transformation. Jessica always looks so devilish and teasing, like at any moment she might spring up and bite into your neck. That look had never been a problem before, but there is something unspeakably eerie about Jessica’s softness.  
  
Yet, Amy knows she wants more.   
  
“Well, if you’re sure,” says Jessica, in a voice that sounds like she’s trying to shrug off their shared intimate moment. “But I’m warning you, I might just decide to start tickling you midway through.”   
  
“Don’t you dare!”  
  
The two share in a little giggle, but all too soon, the sound tapers off. Both women are left in a visual stand-off, trapped in a moment of electric silence.   
  
Amy feels the tension that comes when you notice something is about to slip from a table, and you aren’t going to be able to catch it in time.  
  
In a rush of clawing, near-feral desperation, Jessica makes the first move and presses her lips to Amy’s. And that’s the way Amy processes initially - just a gentle touching of lips to lips, cheek to cheek. Autonomous, and necessary. But then Jessica deepens their kiss, inviting Amy’s own lips to seek comfort in Jessica’s and their invitingly plush exterior. Now, Amy feels this is different - old warmth mingling with new warmth and pooling to form something new at its apex.   
  
Amy sinks back into the pillows, melting into the sensation of Jessica’s hair brushing her neck, and those lips giving her own new life.  
  
Soon, Jessica’s hands wander. They tease their way up under Amy’s shirt, exploring with both aggression and delicacy, and the heat radiating from Jessica’s fingertips thrills Amy to her very core. A surprised whimper leaves Amy’s mouth when Jessica’s fingers cup one breast, and now there’s gentle squeezing, with fingers rippling over Amy’s skin. Amy keeps her arms locked tight behind Jessica’s back; the idea of letting her go now is too horrifying to consider.  
  
Jessica’s fingers glide over Amy’s hips, ever-so-gently tugging down her pyjama pants. However, she stops just beneath Amy’s buttocks, and in a weird way, Amy is grateful for this one preservation of dignity - she isn’t fully unclothed, and so she isn’t fully vulnerable. Whether or not Jessica did this on purpose didn’t matter to Amy. All she knew is that when Jessica’s hand dips below the waistline of her panties and her knuckles brush Amy’s thighs, she’s ready to die happy.  
  
“All good?”  
  
Amy barely looks at Jessica, she’s feeling so bleary. “Oh yeah,” she mumbles back. “Thanks for doing this, it feels…so nice.”   
  
“Well,” says Jessica, with a cavalier smirk, “it’s about to get a whole lot nicer.”  
  
At that moment Jessica brushes her index finger against Amy’s smooth outer folds. Amy can’t hold back her gasp of delight as Jessica’s finger slips inside, massaging her inner lips. Amy keens and leans into Jessica’s hand, while Jessica caresses her labia with a practised and careful touch.   
  
Jessica buries her face into Amy’s neck, and kisses her collarbone, starting low and travelling up to just below Amy’s ear. Jessica’s all lips and no teeth, nothing but plump pressure and hints of saliva sucking faint marks on to Amy’s skin - and into her soul.   
  
“Oh, God…” Amy groans. “Jessica, you’re fantastic.”  
  
Indeed, if Amy could stay here forever, she gladly would have chosen to. Oh, Jessica knows what she’s doing all right, and Amy feels entirely at the mercy of her expertise.   
  
The two rock together in a sublime symbiotic motion, with Jessica kneading Amy’s folds together in an exquisite massage for her clit. In the back of Amy’s mind, a thought massages her too, manipulating the edges of Amy’s consciousness and expressing unbrokered delight.   
  
_I’m actually wet! Not just barely wet, regular wet - I’m actually dripping!_  
  
“I must be doing something right,” Jessica comments with a chuckle, echoing Amy’s thoughts. She shows her hand to Amy, and her fingers glisten stickily in the low light. “Do we even need the toy?”   
  
Amy flushes, but as the heat pulses through her being her heart gives a resounding throb. Jessica’s acknowledgement is opening her up like a flower, and she wants to keep her legs spread, wants to feel Jessica’s lips and fingers and breath stroking every little part of her, claiming her, wrapping her up tight in a blanket from which only Jessica could extricate Amy’s form. She feels protected, and safe, and adored.  
  
It’s a feeling she hasn’t felt in a long time.   
  
Despite this new shyness, Amy is certain of her response.   
  
“Please.”  
  
That’s all the affirmation Jessica needs. She palms the bullet and clicks the cap, setting the toy buzzing away. The sound makes Amy squirm, but she has no time to prepare for Jessica laying the cool metal exterior just over her clit. Amy squeaks and curls into the bullet, endorphins shooting through her veins and arousal pumping to her cunt. She actually feels liquid seep down her legs.  
  
“Jessica, that’s so good, oh my God…”   
  
_And I’m not lying!_ Amy thinks.  _I don’t have to lie because this is amazing and Jessica is amazing and oh I just want to lie here and sink into the covers and never come back up again._  
  
For a while, Amy floats on a sea of ecstasy. Jessica’s touching slows, and time drags on. Bonds of warmth and skin hold both women together, in threads of soft gasps and the continuous humming of a toy intent on making Amy’s legs the bedrock to a lake. No words are needed. The twitching of Amy’s legs and her gentle noises of contentment form the backdrop to a perfect scene, one that not even silence could break.  
  
Silence.   
  
Jessica is silent, with her tongue sticking out between her teeth ever so slightly, focusing on Amy. Focusing on her pleasure.   
  
_But that’s not it,_ Amy’s mind whispers.  _Something’s wrong._  
  
No. She’s just concentrating. Focus on the toy, it feels really nice.  
  
_But why hasn’t she said anything?_  
  
Because this is an intimate moment, and she doesn’t need to say anything. The toy-  
  
_Any moment now she’s going to ask you why you haven’t cum._  
  
We’ve barely started! I don’t need to-  
  
_She’s repulsed. She’s going to make you touch her.  
_  
No. I want to touch her. I want to reciprocate, I just-  
  
_Remember how disappointed he was when you couldn’t finish for him? Her mind taunted, relentless. Remember how he’d turn over and let you wallow? Remember how he left you crying? But you wanted it, didn’t you?_  
  
Please, shut up.  
  
_Remember how he came into your room with that look on his face, waiting for you to get naked?_  
  
Shut up.  
  
_Remember how you’d have to open your mouth wide and take his cock just so he’d touch you-_  
  
“SHUT UP!”  
  
And that thought comes screaming, the rage inside of her head bursting with tsunamic force. Something dark and toxic, like living sewage, is pumping around her body with each pulse of her heart. Amy thinks Jessica’s mouth is open, but she’s not really seeing it. Her whole body is transformed into static, and a yawning, ravenous hole rips into the space where her heart should be. She’s numb, beyond unpresent, but she can feel Alex’s long, looming form above her, his spindly fingers arresting themselves in her hair-  
  
“Amy, hey! It’s okay!”  
  
-and she’s on her knees on the bed, mouth agape and stuffed full of Alex. Her thoughts are rampaging yet there’s nothing inside of her anymore, nothing tangible or constant. He’s so silent -  he never says anything during, just unsheathes and makes her the swallow the sword so far back it makes her eyes water. And that emptiness, that worthlessness wells up from the darkest parts of her being, but she’ll sit and she’ll suck and she won’t make any complaints because she needs him to hold her, needs to feel like she’s worth something, needs to feel like someone in the world cares-  
  
“AMY?”  
  
Amy screams. Jessica’s arms wrap around her shoulders, but Amy jolts and straggles away, scrambling to the edge of the bed. Her fingers wrench between her thighs and seize hold of the bullet, still vibrating: still slippery with her cum.   
  
Amy yells and hurls the vibrator at a wall. It connects with a resounding crack. The bullet falls to the floor without a sound.   
  
Broken.  
  
Finally, damn breaks. Amy explodes into tears, and the sobs wrack her whole body; she shakes and shivers and tastes sick in her mouth, tastes pain and salt and sweat.  _I’m so fucking stupid, I deserve to die, Jessica doesn’t need this, I need to end it now, I need to get out of here-_  
  
“Breathe, sweetheart.”  
  
Like the parting of the Red Sea, Jessica’s voice cuts through the fog in Amy’s brain. Time grinds to a halt, and though she’s trembling and feels like she’ll throw up at any moment, Amy sees Jessica. Really sees her. Jessica, with her hands on her diaphragm, inhaling steadily. Her dark eyes are wide with concern, and Amy can see the tremble in her jaw as she tries to maintain steady eye contact.   
  
She’s afraid.  
  
But she’s exhaling slowly now, too. And even though Amy’s pulse is racing and her whole body is on fire, she can’t help but mimic the exhalation. Somewhere, another voice in the back of her mind resonates. In for five, out for eight. The method her psychotherapist taught her.  
  
Jessica remembered what to do.  
  
It takes a good few minutes of nothing but breathing, but gradually, Amy’s hiccuping convulsions die down. She’s still shaking, and her body is still giving strange little jerky movements, but the roaring flames swallowing her thoughts are largely extinguished. She’s burnt out.  
  
“You can come here if you want to.”   
  
There’s so much compassion in Jessica’s voice that it almost burns. Amy’s immediate thought is to shake her head no - _don’t go near her, it’ll only set off the bad thoughts again and oh you’re so horrible for doing this to her_ \- but her system is flagging now. The tidal wave has crashed. Now, she’s nothing but wet residue on the rocks.  
  
So Amy goes to Jessica, and falls limply into her arms. She buries her face in Jessica’s chest, fingers digging into the small of Jessica’s back, and she whimpers.  
  
“I feel so dumb. What the fuck is wrong with me, Jessica.”   
  
It’s a monotone statement, not really a question. The world around Amy is too loud, too bright, too heavy - nevermind her panic moments before. In her mind’s eye she can still see Alex and his towering figure, both above and beneath her, around and not around, scorning her with entrapment and suffocating her with isolation.   
  
“Nothing.” Jessica clutches her, holding Amy like she might split apart. “You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. You deserve better.”  
  
“I do?” says Amy. She winces, hating how pathetic she sounds.  
  
Jessica’s face creases. “Of course you deserve better. Anyone would deserve better than that cheating lowlife, but especially you.”  
  
To Amy’s utter shock, Jessica starts crying. “God, I hope I haven’t taken advantage of you,” Jessica says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.. “If you want me to go away, I will. This was way too fast, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let anything progress tonight, you’re not ready…”   
  
And that’s it - the sewage within spills again, and pours through Amy’s insides like an infection, pumping her up until she’s a well teeming with parasites. This is what she was waiting for - the rejection. She’s a contradiction, a freak of nature, something that shouldn’t exist according to the laws of physics: both empty and full, out of her mind yet knowing with perfect clarity her own thoughts.   
  
Then, her mouth spills too. The words come unbidden, in a horrifying, uncontrollable rush:  
  
“He just didn’t understand! His brain couldn’t keep up with all of the little signals- I tried so hard to make him happy but it’s not his fault he couldn’t understand that me saying no meant no. He didn’t hit me or anything, and we had some good times, I just fucked up and didn’t do well by him-”  
  
Amy falters when Jessica holds up her hand. Her face is set like stone.  
  
“Alex slept with Jay while you were still together.”  
  
This time, it really is like a slap in the face. Even though Amy knows this, every mention of Jay seems to cut her anew. It’s as if she’s back in the bedroom with Alex, him on the other side of the room with his eyes downcast, admitting with frank deliverance that yes, he and Jay did have sexual relations-  
  
But it wasn’t his fault.  
  
Amy remembers being so numb that she didn’t cry for hours.  
  
“He…didn’t know it was wrong…”   
  
“Like fuck he didn’t.” The vehemence in Jessica’s voice is so strong that she has the fortitude to look embarrassed. She continues on, much more quietly, “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. He hurt you. He can justify it to himself any way he likes, but he never made an effort to try and make things better. If anything…”   
  
Jessica considers a for a moment. Amy hiccups miserably.  
  
“If you hadn’t gotten out then, he would have kept playing you for a fool for even longer.”  
  
Jessica’s words descend with a gravitas that they both know is final. Amy lets the words sink in, lets them get comfortable with her smoking brain.   
  
Deep down, Amy knows that she would never choose to go back to him.   
  
Jessica cups Amy’s cheek, and brushes a tear away with her thumb. “Listen. This doesn’t need to mean anything. I’m more than happy to go back to the way things were before. But you don’t need to be a martyr, Amy. Stop defending him and his shitty actions. You. Deserve. Better.”  
  
The tears never quite finished flowing. But Jessica’s words lend strength to Amy, just for a moment.  
  
Even if she doesn’t quite believe it.   
  
Even if she knows that this won’t be the last time she feels lesser than dirt.   
  
Even if the paranoia burning in the back of her brain is telling her this is all fake and temporary, and some day soon all of this will be ripped away again.   
  
Despite all of this, Amy cracks the tiniest of smiles.   
  
For now, she’s going to be okay.   
  
Jessica then makes Amy’s heart freeze, by asking the one question Alex never did.   
  
“Do you want to stop?”   
  
Oh, the question that could tear someone into pieces even when it’s the best thing to ask. That monstrous dark is coursing through Amy’s body like a supermassive black hole, swallowing planets live and digesting any semblance of happiness and peace.   
  
But then, the rest of her body is very much alive - tingling and warm and soaked with the sunlight of being touched, and held.  
  
And loved.   
  
The decision tastes metallic in her mouth. But Amy knows what she needs.  
  
“It’s going to sound really dumb, but - can you just hold me?”  
  
Jessica blinks at Amy a couple of times, and for a second that vice of white-hot shame is shackling her back to the ground.  
  
But then, Jessica shatters those fetters with just two utterances.  
  
“Oh, sweetheart,” Jessica says, her voice barely audible. “Of course I can.”  
  
While keeping one arm wrapped around Amy, Jessica coaxes her from the bed and pulls back the covers. Amy slides in first, and revels in the coolness of the sheets. She didn’t notice how searing hot her skin became during her attack.  
  
Jessica snuggles up to her side and draws the comforter tightly around them both. With the low lighting and Jessica’s arm offering weighted reassurance to her back, Amy is able to truly sigh and let herself deflate. The adrenaline won’t go away quickly - she knows from experience - but the cuddles will help.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Amy peers up at Jessica through a mottle of tears.  
  
“You know you never need to cum, right? It’s not a requirement. I just want you to feel nice.”   
  
Amy beams in the dim light. A lone tear slides down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers.  
  
After what seems like a very long time, Amy shivers. The real world is beginning to connect back now - she can feel the sheets against her body, the pillow under her head, and Jessica’s impossibly soft body molding into her own.   
  
Relief washes over Amy in a purifying wave. That’s not the look of someone who’s going to withhold affection just to get sex.  
  
_That’s not the look of someone who doesn’t care._  
  
Amy smiles when Jessica snuggles up close. She wraps her arms around Amy’s chest and buries her face in the top of Amy’s head. She’s never been held more tightly.  
  
“Hope that’s helping you feel a bit more wanted,” Jessica whispers.  
  
The two lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Amy listens to the sound of Jessica’s hushed breathing, a sound so gentle it could be the blanket sound of an ocean brushing up against the shore.  
  
“Jessica?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“You’re so soft.”


End file.
